


1:26 a.m.

by starkovs



Series: 30 minute stories [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Late at Night, Mentions of Tony Stark, Michelle doesn't know how to say "I love you", POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkovs/pseuds/starkovs
Summary: And as you look at him, you feel yourself fill up with that emotion you’ve felt so many times before, the one you felt earlier tonight when his eyes were all locked on you. You can practically feel a plethora of words pile up in your throat, all of which you dare not let slip off your tongue.“Michelle,” he calls out, and the way he says your name sounds like a prayer with its softness.“Peter,” you respond, using the same tone he does.





	1:26 a.m.

**Author's Note:**

> I really can't get enough of writing them. This is another edition to the 30 minute story series that I decided to write impulsively before going to bed. Enjoy and [follow along on Tumblr.](http://mjchellewatson.tumblr.com/) Leave a comment or a kudos and I will adore you forever.

Your grandmother used to tell you that any boy who knocks at the door past 10:00 p.m. is not the type of person you want to open the door for. Yet, when your phone chimes with a text at 1:26 a.m. that simply says, “Come outside please,” you slip a thick sweater over your shoulders and quietly tiptoe out the front door of the apartment. As you navigate your way through the hallway, you start to go over possible witty remarks you could make when you step outside, but when you swing the door to your building open, it all vanishes from your mind.

The street lamps almost seem to wink at you, as you step out on the street, slightly trembling when you see him standing before you. There’s something almost softer about him; his hair is more tousled and his coffee eyes seem warmer than usual. For a minute, you wonder exactly how tired you are because he’s standing in front of a car that seems way too extravagant for an eighteen-year-old boy who lives in a cramped apartment with his aunt. 

He immediately understands the confusion looming in your eyes and simply answers, “Tony Stark gave it to me. A graduation present.” And he’s practically glowing as he says it. His signature, dorky, stupid grin stretches across his face and you’re tempted to simply tug him into the backseat of his new Ferrari and kiss him until you both feel like all of the stars have somehow manifested in your bodies and are exploding within you. 

Instead, you settle for walking around the car, examining its black paint job and tinted windows. You can feel his eyes on you the entire time. When you meet his eyes again, your stomach practically lurches with something you’ve felt on numerous occasions, but you’ve never been able to understand. 

“Want to go for a ride?” he asks. 

You glance back at your apartment, remembering that your parents can step into your room at almost any minute and realize your absence, but you decide _fuck it_ and let out a quiet, “Yes.”

You both giggle as you practically leap into the car, with him taking the driver’s seat and you sliding into the passenger’s seat. You quickly buckle up, the thrill of doing something so risky almost feels liberating. As he puts the gear into drive and takes off into the night, you realize that the two of you can go almost anywhere. Hell, you could drive all night if you wanted to, the notion of which excites you to an unfamiliar degree. 

As he drives through the city, you turn and look at him, _really_ look at him. You watch his chest rise and fall as he sucks in each breathe, the way his hands remain steady at the wheel, and most of all, the tender look in his eye when he catches you in your act and smiles. 

You hate how your breath always manages to hitch when he looks at you. Despite how many times he does it, the intensity of his gaze catches you off guard. You realize all those books you’ve read over the past few years, detailing the intoxicating feeling of love, well, they were all true. Since you started dating Peter, you can’t help absentmindedly thinking about the way his fingers feel as they run circles across your skin in class or the fact that you beam when he speaks up during decathlon practice. 

And as you look at him, you feel yourself fill up with that emotion you’ve felt so many times before, the one you felt earlier tonight when his eyes were all locked on you. You can practically feel a plethora of words pile up in your throat, all of which you dare not let slip off your tongue.

“Michelle,” he calls out, and the way he says your name sounds like a prayer with its softness. 

“Peter,” you respond, using the same tone he does. 

You feel a little bit stupid when you think about how much of a complete cliché this whole moment is, but you still wish that it could go on infinitely. Just you, Peter, and all the world ahead of you. 

“I love you.” The words just practically fall out of you. And as you say them, you realize there’s no nervousness stirring within you, there’s only the certainty of your words echoing in your mind and in your heart. 

He glances back over at you and you repeat it again, a little bit louder this time, “I love you.” And the dorky grin is back, stretching across his face again.

He pulls over to the side of the road. As soon as he puts the car in park, he cups your face with his hands and moves his lips against yours. You sigh with the bliss of the moment, until he cuts the kiss off and whispers in your ear, “I love you too.” You feel your heart practically expand in your chest, and then move back to pressing kisses along his skin. 

And when he drives you home later that night and the whole city flashes around you, you listen to him say it in your head again and again.


End file.
